


Between the Shadow and the Soul

by sheron



Category: The Untamed: Fatal Journey, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Drama, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Friendship, OR IS IT, Post-Canon, Presumed Dead, Reconciliation, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/pseuds/sheron
Summary: Nie Huaisang thought he had plenty of time to mend fences. His life and plans are turned upside down when he receives news that Lan Xichen was slain on a night-hunt shortly after leaving seclusion.Grappling with his unresolved feelings for Lan Xichen, Huaisang is forced to confront his strained relationships with Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in order to find out the truth. Is Lan Xichen truly gone?
Relationships: Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén/Niè Huáisāng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn (background), Niè Huáisāng & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Comments: 48
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The premise for this fic, especially the start, was inspired by Killashandra's "Darkest Hour", a long time favourite story of mine in the Highlander fandom. This story is based largely on CQL/The Untamed TV show canon, including the Fatal Journey, with gaps filled in as needed from the novel. 
> 
> Special thanks to ImaginationCake for helping with this story!

_I love you as one loves certain obscure things,_  
_secretly, between the shadow and the soul._  
_\- Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII_

The knock on his bedroom door a little after midnight didn't wake him and didn't cause Huaisang anything more than a spark of irritation — one of the Nie disciples no doubt needing Sect leader's approval for something that could very well wait 'till morning — when he heard Nie Yunpeng's breathless voice behind the door, calling, "Sect Leader Nie, please come at once!"

He rolled out of bed, threw on a robe, and opened the door to check on the commotion, rubbing at his eyes. It was hard enough to fall asleep without interruptions like this. "What is it, a fire?"

The barrage of words nearly barreled over his question. "We had news, news from Lanling!" A year ago, news from that region would have sent his heart hammering, wondering if his plans had been discovered, if Jin Guangyao had found out what Huaisang had been up to with his time. But that chapter of his life was sealed off, just like a coffin that held the body of his brother's murderer. Now his only worry about the Jin sect was the young, impetuous Jin Rulan's making all manner of diplomatic agreements on behalf of the sect he had inherited, disturbing the status quo and sending waves of turbulent change through the current politics. Not even Huaisang had been as rash upon first becoming the Sect leader, and he'd been preoccupied with his other main goal of revenge. The Jin sect was changing, but at least Huaisang was used to keeping an eye on the Jin.

Frowning, he took in Nie Yunpeng's worried face, the near trembling emotion in his face. Nie Yunpeng was a slightly older man, with a reliable, steady head, not prone to fits of anxiety. The spy network Huaisang had setup in Lanling through the past decade — ostensibly for sect matters, his real goals known to no-one but himself at the time — must have yielded some truly remarkable news.

Nie Yunpeng barreled on, breathlessly. "They say Sect Leader Lan is dead!"

Huaisang understood each individual word, but couldn't comprehend their meaning when put together; the words dropped like stones into a void. Sect Leader Lan. _Lan Xichen._ The man had been in seclusion for months, following the events at the Guanyin Temple, and he was only recently seen out in public again. Huaisang had bitten his lip bloody trying to contain a smile of sheer relief when he heard about it from the gossip of the visiting cultivators. Now, he gazed in a silent question at Nie Yunpeng.

"Zewu-jun!" Nie Yunpeng's voice rose in excitement, as he tried to get through to Huaisang, who stood in the doorway of his rooms still like a statue and feeling just as numb. "Zewu-jun is dead." Sensing a response was required, Huaisang nodded at the man to go on, still waiting for his comprehension to catch up and at the same time: almost not wanting to know. A hollow kind of fear started to creep up on him, like a shadow he couldn't escape, and his heart picked up the pace. After squinting at whatever he read in his face, Nie Yunpeng spilled the rest of the story in a rush. "Nie Chen sent his fastest raven. The information we have is it was on a night-hunt; some sort of a snake beast that was terrorizing a town in Jin territory, and— By all accounts, Lan Xichen had gone alone, the villagers say—Sect leader!" Nie Yunpeng caught him by the shoulders and Huaisang realized he was being steadied, he'd started to list against the door. His legs wouldn't support him, as the meaning sunk in all at once.

_Xichen-ge._

The cold realization wrapped like a vice around his chest. Huaisang felt dizzy, as if he had over-extended his meager spiritual energy resources. And immediately, the denial rose up so hard and powerful, he reared back from Nie Yunpeng, staring at him in wide-eyed daze. His spy network was reliable, but this was Lan Xichen. There had to be some mistake! Lan Xichen preferred company for night-hunts, even so he could watch over some younger Lan disciples practice their skill in safe numbers. Night-hunting alone, so soon after leaving seclusion, what had he been thinking? The two of them hadn't spoken since that one conversation on the steps of the Guanyin Temple, and Huaisang had been patiently waiting—. 

Lan Xichen was supposed to be safe! Huaisang shook his head to clear it. Nothing made sense.

Grabbing his elbow, Nie Yunpeng lead him over to the nearby stone garden bench, and tried to force him to sit down, but Huaisang locked his knees and wouldn't yield. "No, wait. Tell me everything," he said in a remarkably steady voice that felt like it was coming from outside his body. He could keep his head in a crisis; he'd had some practice. He calmed his face, so Nie Yunpeng wouldn't waste his time on pointless concern. It was a useful skill, to appear unruffled even as his world was crashing down around him.

He listened to the details of the story in silence and still didn't believe, but his mind had already played through the alternatives. Huaisang clung to them like straws. He didn't have to believe the rumours; he would travel to Gusu and see for himself.  


* * *

Huaisang still didn't believe it on the way to Gusu. 

Flying the saber was exhausting, but travel by horse would take days. No, he was flying, as fast as he dared, as fast as his mediocre cultivation abilities allowed him, constantly aware that if he lost focus he could crash down to earth and that was a setback he didn't need. Nie Yunpeng had insisted on going with him, and in his rush to keep moving, to focus on a goal he could reach, Huaisang didn't have the spare attention to forbid it. In a final act of protectiveness before they set off, Nie Yunpeng had placed a grey mink fur-lined cape on Huaisang's shoulders, and he was grateful for it now.

Below them, the clouds were starting to be touched by the first rays of the sun rising above the horizon and drawing away the chilly fog of nighttime air. In his mind, Huaisang went back to two months ago, when he had first heard that Lan Xichen was ending his seclusion. He had received the news as a matter of official Nie sect business, and had congratulated himself on predicting that Lan Xichen loved people too much to keep himself in isolation for too long. 

Huaisang wasn't a good cultivator, but he took some pride in being able to read those around him, and tended to know how far he could push things. He'd thought, with a self-satisfied mental pat on the back he could now despise himself for, that with time the two of them would have a chance to resolve everything. Surely, it wouldn't take too long for Lan Xichen to look beyond past hurts. Unlike Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen couldn't hold a grudge.

Reconciliation would never bring back the dependable, easy quality of their past relationship, but it was inevitable. 

With Lan Xichen out of seclusion and soon to begin attending public events, Huaisang had considered writing a letter, had put his brush to paper several times, but even his agile mind had stumbled over what to say. Writing to Lan Xichen now would have none of the frivolous tones his meandering letters to Er-ge had taken on in the past. Even if he could have summoned the flowery, careless words, they would only create distance instead of intimacy, as he was sure the one answer Lan Xichen still wanted for him was impossible to discuss in written correspondence. So after several fruitless attempts at writing to him, Huaisang had pushed unfinished letters aside, deciding they'd talk one day. He knew where Lan Xichen was. 

Huaisang didn't attempt to see him in person. A longer passage of time could ensure the wounds fully scabbed over. He and Lan Xichen would talk when they inevitably ran into each other at one cultivation event or another, he told himself. Huaisang would know what to say then. Idiot. _Idiot_.

How arrogant he had been! How utterly incapable of learning from the same mistake that he made over and over through his life: assuming that there'd always be more time to spend together later. This was never a guarantee.

His thoughts threatened to slide down the familiar dark whirlpool of despair, and he yanked them firmly to the way ahead. Lan Xichen's spirit burned too brightly to be extinguished on some meaningless night-hunt. He wouldn't dare do that to his younger brother. And he sure as hell owed Huaisang at least a conversation after everything they've been through over the years.

As the waterfalls of Gusu started to come into view, Huaisang steadied his breath and drove his saber forward, not knowing what awaited him at the end of the road.  


* * *

He arrived at the border of the Cloud Recesses at dawn and climbed down from high altitude, with Nie Yunpeng playing bodyguard at his back. Knowing that the Lan sect was shielded from the air with wards, he went up to the gate of the staircase leading up the mountain to announce his visit and ask to see Lan Wangji. The warm daybreak sent mist into the air from the abundant water, and the entire place looked shrouded in mystery and secret. After four hours of traveling by air, all of his muscles trembled in exhaustion, but Huaisang didn't let himself pause. 

It was past five in the morning, and everyone had to be awake. In the tense, pale faces of the two Lan disciples guarding the entrance, Huaisang could sense the gloomy tension that hung over the sect. He could tell right away, something _had_ happened. Even in the unlikely event that the news he had received from his extensive spy network in the Jin area was a falsehood, something was wrong. The rumour of Lan Xichen's demise had been spreading through the villages of Lanling. He had to see Lan Xichen's brother.

He didn't have nearly as many informants in the Gusu area, but enough to know already that His Excellency had left his Sect several days prior, to meet up with Wei Wuxian somewhere in the Yunmeng area mountains, and as of yesterday was still traveling back on foot. Lan Wangji would have arrived home the night before, and would have just learned the news of his brother, if there were any to be had. 

A small part of Huaisang still held on to a hysterical idea that this was all a trick, that someone had thought to play a mean joke on him, and that any second now Lan Xichen himself, impeccably dressed and coiffed, would grace these steps with his presence. Huaisang could almost picture the man's flowing gait, and the quirk of a smile that would lurk in the corner of his mouth whenever Xichen-ge called out, with a near exasperated affection: _Huaisang_.

But Lan Xichen didn't walk down the steps to scold him or to make it all better. The vision faded into the early morning mist.

The guards at the entrance allowed Nie Huaisang and his bodyguard to pass as before, on the strength of the past close relationship between the Nie and Lan sects. That hadn't been rescinded. Huaisang hurried up the stairs with his heart in his throat. He had learned long ago that if you looked like you knew exactly where you were going, most people let you be on your way.

Up in the Sect proper, it was chaos. Lan disciples rushed back and forth in groups, voices raised and faces strained with fear. He overheard in passing that Lan Qiren was laid up sick with grief, and his heart sank, one more hope this was all a mistake quickly extinguished. 

Nie Huaisang used the general confusion of the sect to his advantage, slipping steadily past their ranks towards the private area and the Jingshi, secluded behind a rock garden. Outside the open doors of the Jingshi, he motioned for Nie Yunpeng to wait, and left his saber with the man, while he went towards the two familiar men he saw inside.

Lan Wangji, in his pale blue robes, was kneeling on the floor of the Jingshi, and Wei Wuxian was crouched next to him, all in contrasting black, one arm wrapped around Lan Wangji's shoulders. The whole mournful picture struck Nie Huaisang as if a blow landed in his gut, and he froze in the doorway. On the wooden floor, before Lan Wangji lay a white-and-silver scabbard, and next to it a familiar sword.

Shuoyue. Its pristine gleaming length was dirty with grime and blood, but that wasn't what sent adrenaline in a wave through Huaisang's body. The sword was here and the owner wasn't. A proper cultivator like Lan Xichen would never leave his weapon behind if he had a choice. The other matter was also the look in Lan Wangji's eyes. 

Nie Huaisang had lost his older brother in a scene that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Yet even if Nie Mingjue's death hadn't been so terrible, even if it hadn't been orchestrated by a smiling monster hiding in their midst, and he had gone peacefully in his sleep, Huaisang still wouldn't have easily gotten over abruptly losing his only brother. And thus seeing Lan Wangji's expression, Huaisang recognized the emotions written on it intimately.

The cold reality of the situation was settling in.

His words cut through the stillness in the Jingshi. "What happened?"

The two men on the floor startled. They'd been lost in the desolate stillness of their own world, and now Wei Wuxian made an aborted, alarmed movement to grab the black flute at his waist, to defend himself. Lan Wangji merely lifted his tortured eyes to the interloper. Recognition set in, but it brought no relief to tension, as suspicion rose instantly in their eyes. Huaisang felt it settle heavily somewhere in his chest, but he had no time for that now.

With considerable slowness, Wei Wuxian made himself let go of his flute and, after squeezing Lan Wangji's shoulder, rose to his feet to meet Huaisang face on. The other man grabbed his brother's sword off the floor and stood as well. Huaisang evaluated their position next to each other, Wei Wuxian slightly in front. Protective. Were they already lovers? It didn't matter; they'd been like that since Wei Wuxian had come back.

"Nie-xiong," Wei Wuxian said in deliberate tones typically reserved for formal cultivation conferences, "why are you here?"

It was somehow easier to talk to Lan Wangji. Maybe because he understood how the other man must be feeling, maybe because they had never had a closeness between them, and the wary, antagonistic look in Lan Wangji's eyes didn't really hurt.

"I received news. Something happened to Zewu-jun." He hadn't managed to make that into a question, but his words were soft, careful, not likely to offend.

"Fast," Wei Wuxian put in, the abnormally laconic word coming out like a snap. Lan Wangji remained a pale presence in the room, saying nothing. Not as if he could have expected any other welcome, but it was... draining.

Huaisang drew on the well of patience within himself. "News like that travels," he answered the accusation, keeping all of his frustrated anxiety locked up inside. He'd get the information faster if he kept them at ease. "There was a night-hunt for a beast in the forests of Lanling, near Linyi." He glanced between the two men. "What else have you heard?"

Lan Wangji looked down at Shuoyue. "Men from Ouyang sect brought the sword here along with the news." He gripped the sword handle tight.

"Baling Ouyang?" They were associated with Yunmeng, and did not have a special relationship with the Lanling area. Huaisang wanted to hear more.

"They were night-hunting along with the Qin sect in the nearby area and slayed the beast. Qin men found the sword, following directions from the townspeople who witnessed it." Wei Wuxian's solemn words stopped here. He looked over at Lan Wangji, his body swaying in as if he was barely holding back from giving the other man a comforting embrace. Lan Wangji's soft answering look back told its own story. They didn't touch. Huaisang observed this with a spark of irritation, wishing they'd get on with it already. How silly their dance looked to him, when they could instead be reaping the benefits of having found something infinitely precious and rare: comfort in another person who understood and still loved them.

"Is that it?" He realized he snarled the question and couldn't stop, even if Lan Wangji looked surprised and a little murderous back at him. "We're writing Zewu-jun's obituary because of a sword and some second-hand account?" At their silent stares, he forced himself to take a deep breath. Letting more anger show would help nothing, not to mention these two, of all people, didn't deserve it. Lan Wangji had to be going through hell. Huaisang softened his voice in ways he knew tended to get him what he wanted. "I want to help."

"Oh? With what?" Wei Wuxian challenged.

"To look for him," he replied flatly.

Wei Wuxian's look at him was intense, but somehow not surprised. That gave Huaisang hope that his old friend was already thinking along the same lines as him. Wei Wuxian began, carefully, "You don't believe Lan Xichen is—"

"Where is the body?" Huaisang demanded before he could hear the final word. He couldn't let himself hear it. Not yet, not if he were to hold on to hope.

"They say he was torn apart," the hoarse words came finally from Lan Wangji. "The townspeople who saw it happen." He shivered. "They say the beast" — Lan Wangji swallowed, in obvious pain — "ate him."

There would be nothing left. Huaisang set a hand against the nearby door, palm spread against the smooth lacquered wood to keep himself steady. It felt unnaturally warm against his cold fingers. He had few talents to recommend him, but his imagination had always been vivid. While still alive, his older brother had often ribbed him for being so quick to picture dramatic scenarios that lived only in his head, but it had come naturally to Huaisang. He could even admit to taking some pride in it. In moments like this, however, his ability to imagine the scene in detail nearly made him gag.

"We have to see for ourselves," he murmured looking at the clean dark floor of the Jingshi but not seeing it, not really. "Something strong enough to defeat Zewu-jun...? And no body, so it's inconclusive." His other hand went to his chest, squeezed in a fist. "Anything could have happened. We just don't know, we really don't know anything." A sudden shadow blocked his vision, and he looked up as Wei Wuxian put a hand on his shoulder. Huaisang barely held back a flinch, but didn't move away. The other man's lips were pressed together grimly, but though he said nothing, his eyes held a shade of that familiar compassion. Afraid of being read too well, Huaisang immediately looked away, and lowered his fist to the side. He didn't want this quiet pity, he wanted to find out the truth. He turned to Lan Wangji instead. "Don't you need to see for yourself?" 

Lan Wangji clenched his jaw. "I do," he admitted, his fist gripping the handle of his brother's sword. In response to his rough voice, Wei Wuxian immediately flitted back over to him, a supporting presence at his side, and naturally not about to let Lan Wangji deal with any of this alone. The two exchanged a silent look of agreement.

"Then I'm coming with you," Huaisang informed them. 

"Unnecessary," Lan Wangji snapped, his proud back ram-rod straight again. "This is a Lan sect matter."

They didn't have time for this! 

"Nie sect gladly offers assistance as an ally, Your Excellency." He bowed formally — a Sect Leader to the Chief Cultivator — and kept his eyes on the man. To refuse a formal alliance was wholly different than whatever personal feelings Lan Wangji held for him. He could see the curl of aversion in the corner of Lan Wangji's mouth and yet the other man hesitated, boxed in by his own rules of propriety. Wei Wuxian frowned, studying Huaisang. They couldn't actually stop him from going, so a refusal now was a matter of poor diplomacy. Straightening, he softened the bitter pill with the earnest: "All my resources are at your disposal on this urgent matter." Out of sight, Huaisang clenched his fist behind his back and waited.

Maybe Wei Wuxian sensed his resolve on the matter, or maybe he liked giving people second chances, because he turned to Lan Wangji and nodded his agreement, in silent communication with the man. Lan Wangji, of course, could not refuse him. 

With the resolution made, all of them seemed to find it easier to breathe. As long as there was something to aim for, one moment to the next seemed bearable. Huaisang recognized the feeling as it settled over him, a familiar shroud that allowed him to push down unimportant things and do what was necessary.

They made short preparations — Lan Wangji gathering a group of Lan disciples to go with them and instructing the remaining sect members on what to do in his absence, and Huaisang directing Nie Yunpeng to send instructions to Qinghe and ignoring his protests about leaving Nie Yunpeng behind — before setting off. They went to Lanling.


	2. Chapter 2

The necessity of speed meant more travel by air. Huaisang kept up with Lan Wangji, but that was likely because the other man was carrying a passenger on his sword. 

Huaisang felt from one moment to the next that he was as likely to drop out of the sky as to keep flying his poorly-cultivated saber. The previous multiple hours of travel that drew on his spirit energy had been taxing, not to mention he hadn't slept a wink that night. Woefully out of practice, his whole body started shaking from exertion towards the end of the flight. Lanling was a shorter distance away from Gusu than Qinghe, which was just as well, since by the time they landed, Huaisang was swaying on his feet. He had to hurry after Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, as they both hopped off Wangji's sword with ease, and strode forward towards the town — really more of a village — ahead at a fast pace. Five younger Lan disciples also landed and trailed a respectful distance behind them, Lan Sizhui leading that group.

"What was Er-ge doing night-hunting on his own?" he called to Lan Wangji, as this was a question that bothered him. How did a man so recently out of seclusion found himself facing dire beasts all alone? Even though Lan Xichen was a top notch cultivator, he must have been rusty after all those months without practice. He must have slipped up in a fight. As Sect Leader he should have had plenty of eager-to-prove-themselves disciples watching his back. Why hadn't he?

At his question, Lan Wangji gave him an oddly scrutinizing look. He carried Lan Xichen's sword in its scabbard at his back, tied with a white sash across his chest. The sheath of own sword, Bichen, he gripped in his left hand, kept at the ready. That grip tightened. Lan Wangji never answered, turning back to face the road that lead into the town. Huaisang gritted his teeth and followed the other men. 

Walking into town together, he could almost imagine the three of them were back to the old easy days of their youth, before all innocence had been stripped away from them. 

Most people wouldn't have been able to place this town on a map. Linyi wasn't a major trading hub, and had grown from a village settlement near an old prison on the outskirts of town, which had long since been shut down. Without a particular industry, residents mostly relied on local agriculture, and many made do by selling wares to passing travelers. Lan Wangji gave succinct orders to the other Lan disciples to disperse around town and find out information, while the three of them headed directly to the only inn in town. They had to learn the events that had occurred the night prior. 

The inn's proprietor was an elderly, wizened woman with several young sons and daughters helping to run the property. The place was clean, which was the only favourable impression Huaisang could form of the inn that had seen better days. His stays in Qinghe territory when traveling had always been in places far more well-maintained, but then Qinghe didn't tax their town-folk to build sprawling golden palaces. Jin Guangyao had inherited his father's propensity for luxurious banquets and flashy tournaments, and now, with the change of rule, it would take time to see which direction Jin Rulan would take the sect. 

In any case, a small piece of silver Huaisang set on the counter was easily enough to get tongues moving. The old woman called up her slim, dull-looking eldest daughter, who took up the counter next to her mother, the family resemblance between them obvious. Only her deep bows to them looked practiced. Though the young woman tried to act at ease, her hands betrayed her nervousness as she straightened the items on the counter unnecessarily. Her mousy-looking little sister, in second-hand ill-fitting brown robes, stood by the doorway and followed the proceedings with bright curious dark eyes.

"Zewu-jun?" Even in this small town, they knew the famous title that had spread far and wide during the Sunshot Campaign, and never lost its lustre. The young woman looked from one of them to the other, before elaborating, in a soft hesitant voice. "He did stay here one evening only... though he paid for several nights. It is terrible what happened," she bowed her head in sympathy.

"He intended to spend more than one day in the area?" Wei Wuxian asked in surprise. Huaisang also tensed like a string.

She wrung at her apron. "Zewu-jun said he would be meeting someone."

Huaisang and Wei Wuxian both turned to Lan Wangji, who only shook his head. This was news to him as well. "Brother said he had personal business to take care of."

"Then, the night-hunt...?" Huaisang turned to the inn owner's daughter.

She swallowed and continued, hesitation once again making every word sound overly cautious. "Zewu-jun must have overhead the local population complaining while having dinner and asked about the snake. When he heard the monster had been terrorizing our town for the past week and we still didn't have assistance from the nearby Watchtower, he— he wanted to help. So..." she hesitated and looked down at her hands clenched in the apron, in silent explanation of what must have happened next. Lan Xichen couldn't sit and watch fear on the faces of the townspeople around him, so he went out on his own. Whatever business he'd had that had brought him into town was put aside. Could his fighting the snake beast alone be so easily explained? Did Lan Xichen truly perish in a simple night-hunt, before an party of lesser cultivators slew the monster the very next day? 

They had to find the location where he fought the beast, find the remains of the monster that the Qin and Ouyang sects slew the following day — something!

"He was very kind," a little girl — the younger sister, no doubt; all of seven years old, if that — squeaked out from the other side. "Zewu-jun gave me a pin." She pointed to her hair, where in the black bun at the top of her head, a small elegant jade pin held the hairdo together.

"Shush," her sister scolded her with a frown, throwing an apologetic glance at the guests on the other side of the counter. "But it is true... Zewu-jun, he tried to help our town... It was sad to hear when the men brought the news. But the-the beast was very fierce." She looked downcast, giving the cloth of her worn apron another twist. "We have lost many people from the town to it, and nobody has been able to do anything." 

They would have to find the witnesses and question them again, Huaisang was thinking. Even if it was unreasonable, they had to find something that didn't fit.

"Anything else? In a small town like this, you have no idea who he might be meeting?" Huaisang knew how fast gossip flew. "Any other significant events that happened recently? In the past week? Months?"

The woman shook her head. "Nothing really happens here..." she mumbled quietly. She exchanged a look with her mother, and they seemed to communicate silently, both frowning.

Huaisang struck his folded fan against the palm of his hand, waiting. The old woman and her eldest daughter must have reached some sort of agreement, because the daughter turned back to them with the same false ease of before, just barely covering her nervousness. "Well, then," — she pulled up a bright smile — "we can keep a room for you, if you would like—"

"He looked awfully bad," the shy mouse of a girl in the corner suddenly piped up. She was instantly shushed by her elders, but instead of being cowed, this time she cried out with the certainty only a child could possess: "What? It's true! Zewu-jun looked pale and frail when he set off, and _I_ thought he must be sick, but you wouldn't hear it because _you_ don't want people to know you can't cook." She crossed her arms on her chest with a stubborn pout. Her older sister gave a torn glance to the guests, face flushed with embarrassment, before grabbing the little girl by the shoulder and walking her out of their sight.

Wei Wuxian gave a troubled side-long glance to both of his companions. That had been a nugget of information.

They quickly found out the direction to the snake beast lair from this part of town, and went to reunite with the rest of their group outside the inn. The other Lan disciples had nothing more interesting to add. The witnesses who had seen Lan Xichen fight the beast all repeated the same story that had been reported earlier: it had been a difficult fight and Lan Xichen had sustained numerous wounds before falling against the humongous snake. A terrible tragedy that the townspeople had witnessed all too often with the civilians from town who'd wandered into the area the monster lurked in. The men could not recount the battle itself, as cultivation world's fighting techniques were unfamiliar to them. They had seen the blood of both beast and man soak the ground wet, before the awful finale. Only one young man from the town volunteered to lead them to the approximate location of the beast's corpse, while the rest refused to even consider going near that area, their fear was just that strong.

With a heavy heart and a sense of dreadful premonition, Huaisang, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, along with the rest of their group of downcast-looking Lan disciples, set off for the wooded area a few miles outside of town.  


* * *

Walking alongside Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji deeper into the woods outside the town, Huaisang warily examined his own reaction to the idea of losing Lan Xichen, discomforted by it.

From as far back as he could remember, he had admired the man's grace and ability, and thought him one of the few men in this world whose reputation was fully deserved. Lan Xichen was intelligent and handsome in an extraordinary way. Even back in those summer days in Gusu, Huaisang was aware of his attraction and accepted it easily. He could deal with a little casual lust for a fine looking man. Examined from a certain angle, if you appreciated the male form like Huaisang did, then lusting after Lan Xichen was almost _normal_. It was something expected. Such a simple thing needed no further thought or action on his part. 

As to whatever other emotions arose within his heart later as he inevitably grew up, those were always easily discounted as feeling lonely and unfulfilled by his role as the Sect Leader. He didn't pay any attention to them. 

Only as time passed, he had looked forward to seeing Lan Xichen more and more. By trapping Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao with his company all these years, he'd trapped himself along the way. That had come as a middle-of-the-night realization, followed by inexplicable tears. Tears that didn't serve any purpose since Jin Guangyao wasn't there to see them.

He forced himself to set those feelings aside, but they seemed like water sliding through the cracks in the stone; he couldn't guard himself completely. Ten years had given Huaisang time to grow used to Lan Xichen's soft heart, his unassuming smiles, the spark of mischievous humour he only let see the light of day in front of those closest to him. Huaisang was bound to like him. Had maybe always liked him, and being around Lan Xichen all the time, relying on him, the feeling had only grown. It was the easiest thing in the world to play up those feelings, to turn them into expressions of need and affection. Some days when he begged Lan Xichen not to leave him alone to his problems, he couldn't tell what part of that was a lie.

The mask had grown into his skin and he could not untangle himself. In the days after the Guanyin Temple, ordinary little things reminded him constantly of how far removed he was from the person he used to be. Painting? Art? Birds? Who was that boy who had been happy to live that carefree life? If Huaisang found himself alone with a brush, it was putting down careful strokes in a political letter to another sect. If Huaisang looked up at the stars at night, rather than studying their beauty, he wondered whether his ancestors were frowning down on him. If he was feeding his birds, his movements turned mechanical; his mind wandered to the last book he read about the theories of qi deviation, to the seeming inevitability of it for all the practicing disciples of the saber technique. His sect's problems occupied his thoughts that had once pursued poetry, that used to flit, magpie-like, away from any serious topic towards shiny things. Now he could not fly away to that past cheerful self, even in his dreams.

He hadn't realized a deep, neglected part of him had lived as if in a cage, warmed and kept alive only by hope. That this pointless part of him still remembered freedom and longed for it. That he had quietly looked forward to speaking to Lan Xichen one day, easily and without any more subterfuge, and being understood. Silly, impractical fantasies!

What room was there in a Sect Leader's life for any soft sentimentality? Huaisang could neither offer nor accept affection without looking for the catch behind it, so it was simpler to give up on those things. He thought he would be safe as long as he kept to himself. He'd gotten through everything else so far. He would be okay. Not happy, no, and never free, but as long as he had his sect he considered himself content. He didn't think he would receive news like this about Lan Xichen, couldn't imagine how much it would hurt. The bubble of contentment burst, revealing itself to be nothing but ugly gnawing emptiness on the inside.

"Lan Zhan," — walking nearby, Wei Wuxian tapped his own nose, startling Huaisang out of his thoughts — "What the little girl at the inn said, about Zewu-jun looking ill. Do you think he could have been poisoned?"

Lan Wangji startled and moved sharply to look over at him. Huaisang also had to admit that, as an explanation for Lan Xichen having so much trouble with a night-hunt, it made sense. No simple food-poisoning would affect a cultivator of Lan Xichen's strength for long, so if he did look ill it may have been a deliberate effort on someone's part. Wei Wuxian had the head for this kind of thing. Maybe the nervous woman at the inn had slipped something in the soup. 

Or maybe they were grasping at straws, at any inconsistency that would suggest an alternative to the obvious: that Lan Xichen could have lost that one fight simply from being rusty and not in the right state of mind. Life was cruel and, in Huaisang's experience, there were no second chances.

Around the time he was contemplating this, the overgrown walls of the old abandoned prison outside of the town came into view, and their guide told them to step carefully. They were close to where the beheaded corpse of the snake beast lay. A part of the wall of the prison was covered in large boulders the size of wine barrels.

"We think the monster burst out of there," their young guide told them, shivering as they passed in the shade of a towering outcrop. Most of the structure was underground, built into the mountain outcrop, but one level of a dark grey stone wall rose up taller than their heads. It was clear that the wall had been damaged, and was hastily rebuilt only recently, based on the trampled grass and a multitude of footprints nearby. "The cultivators closed the opening, in case any more of those things lived down there."

"How long has this structure been abandoned?" Wei Wuxian studied the old prison, its worn stones overgrown with climbing weeds.

"At least a decade."

"Hmm. And the snake suddenly burst out two weeks ago for no reason?"

The young man shrugged, frowning. "There was an earthquake nearby a week ago; part of the mountain fell down in a landslide. We always thought it a strange coincidence, but maybe that woke it up?"

"For such a sleepy town that I'd never heard of, a lot of impactful events suddenly happened here in the past week," Wei Wuxian said. "An earthquake, that set off a monster, that brought a cultivator who just happened to be passing by. What an awful coincidence." That was what was scary about him, Huaisang thought wryly. He made leaps of logic like this and he was so often right.

"But why would someone set a monster to terrorize our town? We aren't rich, and we don't have enemies to speak of. That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe the town was just convenient," Huaisang muttered under his breath. He and Wei Wuxian exchanged glances, while they followed the dirt road around the corner.

The smell hit them first.

It was no longer early morning, and the sun shone above the tree-tops to light up the stretch of a rocky, dry ground. Under its mid-fall rays, a large swatch of the rocks lay covered in dark brown: blood baked in the sun. Their group came to a halt almost simultaneously, eyes riveted to the scene of the bloodbath. 

Flies buzzed over the beheaded corpse of the snake, lying on its side, its long tail stretching out over the rocks at least three meters into the distance. The monstrous head had been taken as a trophy by one of the victorious cultivator clans, but the rest of the body lay where it had dropped, its guts spilling out and filling the air with the stink of a corpse starting to bloat. The resentful energy of the scene had kept scavengers away. A long stretch of the ground had been liberally showered in blood, though most of it had long since seeped between the stones and into the ground. Between the folds of the monster's torn stomach peeked out what looked like a part of a human arm, torn at the elbow.

Huaisang became aware of one of the younger Lan disciples retching nearby. He briefly glanced their way and found them in various states of nausea, both from the smell and the realization of what they were seeing. Lan Wangji had turned pale as a sheet, but aside from that the only outward display of emotion from him was a tightening of the lips. Wei Wuxian set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, before letting go and walking ahead. Huaisang followed him. The scene reminded him of the aftermath of some of the battles during the war with the Wens, from their youth. Blood had poured on the streets of Qinghe; this was like that, boulders brown from the carnage. The young Lans had probably never seen such a scene in their entire lives. To think that one of their own might have died here, someone deeply respected and of high-cultivation skill, was likely to shatter their fantasies about night-hunting and give them many nightmares. 

The terror was worse for the one non-cultivator among them. Their young guide from town sputtered an excuse in a horrified sounding voice, turned around and ran back the way he came. 

Huaisang's attention was fixed elsewhere. Wei Wuxian was no stranger to a macabre scene and took it well. Coming up close, he crouched near the beast's torn stomach, gingerly lifting a flap of grey skin with a dry tree branch he found on the ground. He winced at the sight of a protruding human appendage, nose wrinkled against the ghastly smell. At his side, Huaisang bent to study the scene more thoroughly as well. Looking at a human arm before him, a sense of cool detachment stole over him. He might as well have been observing his own actions from outside as he looked closer. Five fingers, broken fingernails. Would he have recognized these fingers in another context? He didn't know, but just as Wei Wuxian started to lower the stick holding up the skin flap, Huaisang's attention snagged on a piece of cloth poking out beneath the oozing mess.

"Wait!" he called to Wei Wuxian, who glanced up at him with a questioning frown.

Huaisang crouched near him and bent forward a little more, stretching his hand to reach inside. If his fingers shook when he touched the cloth — it had been white once, but was now a dull red color and wet to the touch — he didn't let himself hesitate and pulled at the ribbon which easily slipped out from the mangled remains.

"That's a Lan forehead ribbon," Wei Wuxian said quietly as Huaisang held it in both hand, palms up, the long ends of the ribbon still dripping thick red to the ground. The both rose from their crouch still staring at the piece of cloth like it held all the answers.

"It's his," Huaisang said.

"We can't be sure..."

"Look at the design," Huaisang said. He drew a breath. Then another, and another. As Sect Leader, Lan Xichen's headband was adorned with a centerpiece of a more elaborate design set in silver. It was unique in the sect, shared only by his younger brother. Huaisang turned towards Lan Wangji, who approached them in silence, the same design adorning his own headband. His eyes widened when seeing the ribbon Huaisang held in his upturned palms, and he seemed to almost startle when Wei Wuxian took his elbow, his whole body jerking slightly, as if waking from a nightmare. He blinked a few times, eyes wide.

"My brother..." he began, before his voice dwindled into silence. He seemed unable to continue.

"Nobody would dare take this from him without his agreement," Huaisang said. He was not looking into Lan Wangji's eyes, but he was thinking, his mind was turning over everything they'd seen and finding it lacking. "Not if he was alive, right? That's what this is supposed to tell us. His sword, conveniently found on the scene and sent to you. Doesn't it all feel a little too neat?"

"What?" Wei Wuxian turned to him, still gripping Lan Wangji's elbow tight in support.

"All we have are _things_." He looked from Lan Wangji to Wei Wuxian, imploring them to understand. "We can't be certain. There's no body. Where's Lan Xichen? Where is he?"

Now Wei Wuxian set his other hand firmly on Huaisang's shoulder and peered seriously into his face. "Nie-xiong," he said quietly, squeezing the shoulder hard enough to hurt. "I want to believe otherwise, but look at the evidence." He gave the monster's body a quick glance, and didn't have to point out the possibility the mangled arm belonged to the man they knew. "How could someone take these personal items from Zewu-jun against his will?"

"All this proves is he is in trouble," Huaisang protested, hands curling around the precious ribbon. The feel of its smooth silk against his skin was maddening under such horrifying circumstances. "It means someone had power over him and they want us to think he's dead. They gave us plenty for it to be believable, but it's not enough! Until I see his body before me, I won't believe he's dead!"

The younger Lan disciples had surrounded them at that point. Huaisang realized he was shaking, that each word he spat out made him seem out of control. Every one of them was looking at him like he was losing his mind. Every one that is, except Lan Wangji. The man reached out with one hand, and silently brushed his fingers against the bloodied ribbon. Huaisang seized on his hesitation. "You think it, too." 

Lan Wangji's eyes met his, pained.

Acting on instinct, Huaisang grabbed one of Lan Wangji's hands and thrust the Lan ribbon into his palm, pressing it there. He held the grip, pushing the cloth into that unresisting hand until Lan Wangji's fingers curled around it. Under any normal circumstances, Huaisang would not have dared to manhandle Hanguang-jun this way, would not have gotten away with it, but these were extraordinary times and he was flying on gut-feel more than reason. He couldn't give up on Lan Xichen just because he saw a sword and a ribbon.

"Until we have absolute proof, we can't be sure," Huaisang repeated, resolve setting in. "Lan-xiong, you've seen the kind of evil men can do. Someone could have set him up."

"You know the most likely thing is Zewu-jun perished here," Wei Wuxian answered quietly.

"You can believe whatever you want," Huaisang said. "But if he is alive, if someone set him up — then he needs us. And as long as there's a chance that Er-ge is out there and he needs our help, then we can't give up, we just can't." He pulled Wei Wuxian's hand off roughly off his shoulder, dropping it free and pulling away, standing straight with his shoulders in an implacable line. "I won't." 

Huaisang transferred his gaze to Lan Wangji. A younger brother to a younger brother. _I know_ , he wanted to say. _I know how hard this is. But maybe this time there's still a chance_. His heart had stopped going pitter-patter in his chest now that he had made up his mind. He wouldn't give up until he had irrefutable proof, not in ten thousand years.

Wei Wuxian also took one look at Lan Wangji's face and sighed, reading him perfectly. The man's brow was furrowed, but there was a determined cast to his face.

"What, then?" Wei Wuxian asked no-one in particular in a somewhat resigned fashion. He too, straightened his stance, at the ready. He would believe because Lan Wangji believed it. The young Lan disciples exchanged glances between themselves, but stayed respectfully silent. "If we assume this is a trick, then..."

"Someone wants us to think he is dead." Huaisang's voice was rough, throat dry. "We start with that."

Lan Wangji gave a barely perceptible nod.

"I will play Inquiry." He turned to make space for himself, and lowered the hand with the bloodied ribbon to his side. Huaisang's eyes followed it. He had an acute impulse to hang on to the ribbon, to keep this little piece of Lan Xichen to himself, but he controlled the urge. It didn't belong to him.


	3. Chapter 3

Lan Wangji should probably have hidden the bloodied Lan forehead ribbon in a qiankun bag, but instead he ended up wrapping it around the middle of his palm, ignoring the gory smudges it left behind and leaving his empty hands able to pluck the strings of his instrument. He sat down on the ground a little out of the way of the tragic scene, on the dry ground by the prison wall.

Looking at him, it appeared to Huaisang as if Lan Wangji looked older, as if the last hour had aged him. There was something in the thin cant of his mouth, pressed tight, and in his drawn expression, that lent him a weary kind of severity that was previous absent. In the past year, Huaisang had gotten used to seeing him calm and a bit mellow, even with a quiet smile lurking in the corner of his lips on occasion. Now, desperation was back in Lan Wangji's eyes as he looked up briefly, as if to center himself, and his eyes went almost inevitably, instinctively, to Wei Wuxian. 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian nodded encouragement at him. The other man didn't need further prompting, bringing out his guqin. The first notes of Inquiry rang through the air, the hollow sounds bouncing off the tall mountainous formations behind them in a resonating echo. 

Huaisang strained his ears for a response, even though he had only a basic familiarity with the fundamentals of the qin language. He could identify a 'yes' or a 'no' answer, as well as the combination of notes composing Nie Mingjue's name, and that was it. He'd learned the name from when Lan Xichen had played Inquiry for his late brother after his death, without any answer. What irony that Huaisang now waited to hear if Lan Xichen's spirit would speak to them! 

As a single-note answer rang from the strings, his heart nearly stopped. He looked about as if he'd see the spirit of the dead, but of course he couldn't. If it was Lan Xichen answering... If he was truly dead... Stilling his breath, Huaisang told himself to hold on and not think it. Not yet.

Having confirmed the presence of a spirit, Lan Wangji took a shallow breath to calm himself and played the melody of the next question. Another moment of tense silence followed. Lan Wangji sat still as a statue, watching the strings. Huaisang gripped his closed fan in his hands so hard its darksteel etching bit into his skin.

 _No_ , echoed from the guqin in qin language.

"Who is it?" he gasped out, realizing only then that he'd stopped breathing completely before.

Lan Wangji shot him an indecipherable look over the musical instrument, but instead of answering he frowned and returned to playing. More questions, more answers, coming at the truth from different directions. Huaisang looked between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, hoping some expression, some hint of feeling would reveal what he so desperately needed to know. He was lost about the meaning of the complex notes played back and forth. Lan Wangji's face was too solemn and impossible to read. 

"Is it him?!" Huaisang insisted with a cry, as impatience got the best of him. He had to know; this hope was cruel. "What is it saying?"

"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian prodded, but gentler.

Lan Wangji sighed and slumped a small amount. "It is a man. Not my brother." The relief mixed with pain in his voice. "He does not know where my brother is."

With a swirl of robes, Huaisang turned away from them and put a hand to his mouth, covering it against a sound that tried to escape. He breathed in and out through his nose, steadying himself. Not Lan Xichen! That meant there was still hope. He could still be out there, alive! They could find him. He could be hurt, bleeding out somewhere. Slowly Huaisang lowered his hand from his mouth, collecting himself and trying to shove everything irrelevant out of his head, so his mind would be clear.

"Ask him who killed him," Huaisang said, turning slowly to face the duo, voice calm. It was a good voice. Keeping calm would get him an answer from Lan Wangji, who didn't respond well to emotional displays.

Lan Wangji looked down at the guqin and played the query. The spirit communicated back in several notes.

"Big. Snake." Lan Wangji translated, glancing over at Wei Wuxian. They spoke with their eyes in silence.

Wei Wuxian looked lost in thought. "Is he the only victim?"

A few notes played back and forth and Lan Wangji said, "No. There are many others. But..." he hesitated and played another melody, afterward answering as the notes of the response still hung in the air, "Not here. Inside."

"Inside..." Wei Wuxian tapped his nose. "We'll look around, but first, ask him when he died."

Lan Wangji communicated with the spirit of the dead man. After hearing the answer, he looked up, startled. "The night before last." The same night Lan Xichen had supposedly been slain?

Looking surprised, Wei Wuxian tilted his head. "Except for reporting about Zewu-jun fighting the monster, the townspeople did not say anyone else went missing."

Huaisang looked back in the direction their guide had run off in. "Considering how scared they all are of this place, do you think anyone from town ventured here at night _after_ hearing a famous cultivator had been killed?"

Lan Wangji was frowning. "He has not seen my brother, and with me here, the spirit cannot lie."

They all transferred their eyes to the bloodstained corpse of the snake. For the spirit to have been killed in this spot that night, it would have had to have been before Lan Xichen came to fight the monster, so the already slain spirit would have seen him die. Otherwise, someone from town would have purposefully ventured here later that night, knowing the danger. It didn't add up. Huaisang's heartbeat sped up again.

"What if," Lan Sizhui started, "What if Zewu-jun was...What if he fought the monster elsewhere?"

Huaisang looked down at the bloodstained Lan ribbon wrapped around Lan Wangji's palm. "Why would that be here then?" Unless someone put it there for them to find. Unless the blood and the mangled arm did not belong to Lan Xichen at all, but rather to the one speaking to them through the guqin.

Lan Wangji played another question on the guqin, translating the answer for them. "The arm belongs to the spirit."

They considered this in silence. Lan Xichen wasn't here. His body wasn't here. He had disappeared and been missing for two nights now. If someone had taken him, each hour that went by meant they were less and less likely to find him still alive.

"Then there's this place," Wei Wuxian suggested, motioning with the chin in the direction of the prison wall. The other dead bodies were inside according to the spirit. But Lan Xichen spirit hadn't answered. "The lair." Lan Wangji was already rising and putting away his guqin.

He turned to Lan Sizhui, at the front of the other disciples. "Head back into town. Find the eldest daughter of the inn owner and keep her in sight until we arrive. I wish to speak with her."

"Hanguang-jun," Lan Sizhui started quietly, looking up at him with an obvious offer to join them in their search. Lan Wangji gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, and Lan Sizhui read him instantly. He pressed his lips together and stepped back, bowing his acquiescence.

The other Lan disciples also bowed, before Wei Wuxian tacked on a request. "Sizhui," he nodded at the younger man who clearly headed the flock of younger Lans. "Check if any of the civilians who saw the fight have traces of magic on them. If their minds were meddled with, that would explain why they think they saw what they saw." For a cultivator of a sufficient skill it wasn't very hard to create an illusion that could trick a non-cultivator.

With another polite bow in their direction, the Lan disciples headed on their way back into town, while the three of them remained to examine the wall of the prison, built into the mountain outcrop. They'd have to find a way inside.

Thoughts grim, Huaisang spoke what was on his mind. 

"Whether he was poisoned at that inn or not, if Lan Xichen was taken on purpose, could someone have known he would be in Linyi that night? He had not left the Cloud Recesses for a long time until this. Who knew of his travel plans?" That last was for Lan Wangji.

"Brother said he had personal business and not to worry," Lan Wangji answered looking straight ahead at the prison wall. "He refused company."

Huaisang pressed his lips together. That still bothered him immensely, that Lan Xichen had gone from barely appearing in public at all for months, to apparently conducting business in another sect's territory. Who would he even be meeting, in secret, if it wasn't an official sect business? Someone who would want to see him outside of Gusu? Not knowing was driving him mad. "Has anything happened recently? Anything out of the ordinary? Anything that troubled him?"

Lan Wangji's returned icily, "You know very well what troubled him."

Huaisang flinched, before slowly looking towards the man. He already knew what he would see on Lan Wangji's face, but it didn't make it easier to face. He couldn't be so careless with his words again, so he stayed silent.

"For the past months, brother preferred to be alone as much as possible." Lan Wangji's look at him could curdle milk. "Questioning everything, and himself most of all."

Heart stinging, it took Huaisang a moment to compose himself. He looked down at his hand, where the blood of the Lan forehead ribbon had marred his skin with dark red smudges. Questioning everyone's motives, always having to suspect the worst, never trusting anyone — Huaisang did know what that was like. He never wished that on Lan Xichen, who most of all went through the world always seeing the best in people. Meng Yao had revealed this side to the both of them. Huaisang had had to change into something his younger self wouldn't have understood; did Lan Xichen?

He didn't want to think about Lan Xichen's pain, his doubts. He didn't want to imagine him in a fight against the snake beast, but not at full strength. He'd been wounded, maybe in body or maybe only in spirit. If there was even a chance he was still out there, alive, Huaisang would leave no stone unturned looking for him. 

And speaking of stones... Huaisang turned towards the hastily constructed barricade at the wall of the prison. The Qin and Ouyang cultivators had blocked the entrance before leaving the area with the snake's head, likely to ward off the abandoned prison. If either sect had anything to do with taking Lan Xichen, they hadn't covered their tracks well.

"From the state of the vegetation here, the story that the group of Qin and Ouyang cultivators blocked this entrance makes sense. See all the footprints near here." Huaisang motioned to the ground. "But look at the way the wall opening was curving inward before it was blocked. As if something came in, rather than came out?"

"If the wall had exploded outward, we'd be seeing lots of small stone chips all over the ground here, but there are none," Wei Wuxian added in agreement.

"They must be on the inside." Huaisang tapped his chin with his fan, thinking. If they could confirm someone had let the beast out on purpose, that would go some ways to confirm this was a setup.

"It's easy enough to clear the boulders out of the way, but..." Wei Wuxian pushed one of the lower boulders with his foot — instantly the whole structure rumbled, as if ready to collapse. The wall was load-bearing and already off-center thanks to prior meddling; they couldn't knock these boulders down and expect the rest of the wall to stay standing, and if it went, who knew if the rest of the structure would keep standing. They had to see inside before a full collapse would cover all tracks.

"The Jin kept prisoners here once." Huaisang walked along the wall, touching his fingers to the cobblestones marked with the symbols of the oracle-bone script. He couldn't read the ancient script well, but he recognized some of the patterns on the slightly raised stones in one spot clearly marking a sealed off doorway. The way the Jins clung to the classics, as if having learned men among the founders of the sect lent them additional respectability, meant they were predictable in constructing their seals.

"Are you searching for something?" Wei Wuxian asked curiously.

"A way in." Huaisang traced one of the scribbles with his finger, collecting dust and noting the symbol for the phoenix. He thought back to the old philosophy scrolls where he'd seen references to the mythical bird. "This prison was shut down and sealed after some accident, many years ago. I never learned the details." He turned to see the other two men watching him. "If we see evidence of the break-in on the inside, we'll know this wasn't a coincidence."

"At this point, that'll be difficult without collapsing the wall entirely, Nie-xiong," Wei Wuxian looked over the boulders in doubt.

"We don't have to break in." Huaisang turned back to the part of the wall he'd stopped at. He was fairly confident he could decipher the mechanism sealing the door locked, it wasn't much different than other Jin secret hideaways he'd visited over the past decade.

"Whoever came across this place recently did not understand the writing so they didn't use the entrance, and unnecessarily broke down the wall instead. Look," he pointed at the line of the script stretching across the row of stones a little higher than his head. "The phoenix symbol is the Vermilion Bird of the South," — Huaisang traced the script of the puzzle as he went, sending a burst of spiritual energy into the next symbol down — "the Jin forehead mark is an aspiration to illuminate the world with the vermilion light of wisdom. What was that line? Heart within brings order without." Pushing a bust of spiritual energy into the last correct cobblestone symbol signifying the heart, Huaisang listened for the grinding of stone as the worn mechanism inside the walls responded. The door opened before him with a scraping sound. "Those Jins," — he had to smirk to himself — "they always liked unintentional irony."

"Sect Leader Nie, you impress me once again," Wei Wuxian came to stand beside him in the open doorway that looked like an entrance to the catacombs. Huaisang ignored him, peering into the dark staircase leading down. The old earth smell coming from the inside didn't seem particularly sinister. Wei Wuxian tapped his own nose. "So you think that someone released the beast from within the depths of this prison rather than it broke out?"

Huaisang nodded. "If that snake lived inside all this time and was forced out, it's not surprising it attacked the nearby town." He knew he had to head down into the dark, but paused, nervous jitters in his stomach. "There might be more of those things inside."

"Let me go first," Wei Wuxian said and walked past him without hesitation.

Huaisang watched him stride down the stairs, straight into danger, and thought back to their younger years. Then, as now, Wei Wuxian's instinct was to go first, to step into danger in front of others. In a world so full of ugliness, he had still somehow managed to preserve his young heart. It made Huaisang wonder what was wrong with himself, that he hadn't been able to do the same. What made Wei Wuxian so different?

In the moments he watched him disappear down the stone staircase, Lan Wangji readily followed Wei Wuxian into the darkness. Huaisang rushed to catch up with them, holding on to the cold stone walls on his way down so he wouldn't stumble, and fluttering his fan in front of his face, as if it would dispel the stale air. At the bottom of the staircase, a hallway led past what looked like a deserted guard station, and further into the heart of the long abandoned prison. With a practiced sigil, Huaisang lit up the torch lights along the walls illuminating the cavernous space. 

The odd chips of stone littered most of the floor inside, as they had suspected. Someone had broken in and let the snake out.

"That confirms it," Wei Wuxian said. "Lan Zhan," he turned to the man, whose white robes and silver hairpiece stood out in sharp contrast to the surrounding shadows. "You could ask the spirits again, to make sure."

Lan Wangji nodded, and brought out his instrument to play inquiry. It wasn't long before the solemn notes playing back and forth came to a halt.

"My brother doesn't answer," Lan Wangji said with a barely perceptible sigh of relief.

"Good, good," Huaisang muttered. He was thinking that the break in ruled out the Jin sect as suspects, as they would have known how to open their own prison door.

"The problem is," Wei Wuxian said slowly, while Lan Wangji stood and hid the guqin away, "We don't have any other leads. Except maybe that woman at the inn, back in town, who served him his last meal."

"There is one other thing," Lan Wangji said. "Whoever was supposed to meet my brother in town."

"And never showed. That can't be a coincidence," Wei Wuxian agreed. "There might be some notes or letters in Zewu-jun's quarters that would hint at their identity."

"Or we could simply talk to the ones we do know were here. The ones who brought his sword to you, and conveniently walked away heroes." Huaisang met Lan Wangji's eyes and saw him nod. "I did seem to see..." he thought about it some, "I wasn't certain but there didn't seem to be much blood from the head wound when they cut off the snake's head. The snake bled mostly from the wound in the gut, made by Shuoyue."

"You think it was already dead by the time the other sects showed up and didn't bleed when they cut the head off?" Without waiting for his nod, Wei Wuxian sighed and shook his head with some disappointment. "I don't want to believe it of the Ouyang and Qin sect, but if they are responsible for Zewu-jun's disappearance, then they are carelessly making enemies." He twirled his black flute.

Lan Wangji gripped his sword. "Let's go," he said.  


* * *

The familiar worried faces of the young Lan disciples greeted them on the way to the inn, and yet more familiar faces in Nie sect robes strode his way, much to Huaisang's surprise.

"Nie Yunpeng? Nie Zaan?" The two men from his sect came up towards him along the town road, and the small group of younger Nie disciples remained behind them, bowed respectfully before their sect leader. "What are you doing here?" 

Now Nie Yunpeng was looking him over head to toe, as if looking for injuries. His ascetic face was stern.

Nie Zaan — a very distant cousin through his mother's line — stood on Huaisang's other side. He had at least ten years on Huaisang and so had served with his brother. With his pleasant manner, he stood in stark contrast to Nie Yunpeng; he was always the charmer. No surprise he had a new young wife back home in the Unclean Realm, apprenticing under a senior medics of the sect. His most recent orders were to have a discussion with Sect Leader Jin in the Jinlin Tower, so that the trade relations between the two sects continued to flourish. Huaisang had thought it best to keep his own face out of Lanling's capital for the time being. 

The remaining three young disciples keeping behind them were known as up and coming star pupils, perfecting their mastership of the saber under Nie Yunpeng's tutelage. Although Huaisang himself was unskilled with the saber, he was surrounded by men who could strike fear on the battlefield. But sabers would get them nowhere when it came to investigating. This required craftiness, and that was more Huaisang's turf.

"The talks were concluded except for formalities," Nie Zaan reported, "So when I overheard the news you were in Lanling, Sect Leader, I asked to be excused so that I may join you."

"We just met up minutes ago and were about to set off in search," Nie Yunpeng added with some rebuke in his voice.

"Pssht," Huaisang said to that, and walked past them, his attention drawn to where Lan Wangji was being briefed on the situation by his own sect disciples.

"—nowhere to be found. Her mother is in tears."

Huaisang read their faces. "The woman is gone?" 

Lan Sizhui, at the head of the group of Lans, nodded. "We've searched all over town. No sign of her. She vanished without a trace."

"She got spooked?" Wei Wuxian twirled his black flute in a habitual motion. "Thought she had something to hide?"

Huaisang nodded. "If she had indeed slipped something in Lan Xichen's meal, she would have known the faces of the people who had ordered it, wouldn't she?"

"Who is it?" Nie Zaan asked coming up behind him. "Maybe we can help the search?"

Nodding, Huaisang quickly described her appearance.

"Remain in town and keep looking," Lan Wangji directed the disciples from his own sect. Huaisang's nod was for Nie Zaan to do the same.

Wei Wuxian was looking into the distance, in thought. "Unless she regularly poisoned her guests, someone had set a trap specifically for Lan Xichen. The mysterious reason for him being here, in this inn, on that night...I wonder if anyone visited your brother recently from outside the sect. Or wrote to him with an invitation."

Lan Wangji was silent, considering it. 

"Lan Zhan, do you think it would be alright to search your brother's room for any clues?" Wei Wuxian hesitated. "I know it is improper, but we are really thin for ideas."

"It is what has to be done." Lan Wangji bowed his head in acquiescence. "Brother will forgive me if I explain." It was good to hear him speak in present tense. Besides that, Huaisang had a pretty good sense that there was little Lan Wangji could do that his older brother wouldn't be able to get past.

"I will impose on your hospitality one more time, Your Excellency." Huaisang bowed low. When he lifted his head, Lan Wangji was not refusing, even if his stare at Huaisang looked bone-tired and out of patience.

Quietly, Huaisang took the victory. His preference was to interrogate the men from Qin and Ouyang, but he understood why as Chief Cultivator, Lan Wangji needed something more substantial before he threw accusations around. If they turned out to be innocent, then Lan Wangji could not afford to offend them. Yet, if they were guilty of killing his older brother, no cultivator would blame Lan Wangji for wiping the entire sect out.

Nie Yunpeng came up at his side, and he knew what the other man would say even before he opened his mouth. "Remain here," Huaisang preempted him in a low voice intended only for Nie Yunpeng's ears. He carried on before his head disciple could argue as he looked ready to do. "I need you to look over the scene in the woods once more, look for any clues we might have missed, anything that might suggest where they could have taken Zewu-jun."

Nie Yunpeng looked at him in silence for a moment, doubt clear in his eyes. "Do you truly believe Sect Leader Lan is still alive?" Though his voice was pitched low, Huaisang was fully cognizant of Lan Wangji tensing up nearby, still in hearing range.

Huaisang paused and took a breath before answering. If he felt any doubts, they were excised from his voice; it sounded certain. 

"I intend to prove it. I'm going to Gusu."

"Alone?"

Huaisang nodded. "Sometimes in this life we can only rely on ourselves."

"Sect Leader—!"

"Anyway, don't think me useless. After all the troubles, I'm still here, aren't I?" Huaisang smiled at Nie Yunpeng and walked away.  


* * *

More air travel. They were returning to Gusu empty handed.

Wei Wuxian turned to glance back at him when they jumped off their weapons back in the Cloud Recesses, and his look turned to concern. He put a hand on Huaisang's elbow. "Nie-xiong?"

Huaisang never wanted to fly ever again after this. That had been treacherous; he was as surprised as anyone he had made it all the way back without falling off his saber. He was exhausted.

"I'm fine," Huaisang said because what else could he say to keep things moving. He smoothly stepped aside, to let the hand slide off his arm. "Let's look for evidence in the Hanshi." 

" _We_ will look," Wei Wuxian said with emphasis, motioning between himself and Lan Wangji. 

Huaisang wanted to protest, but he knew that would be pushing his luck. They wouldn't allow him into the private quarters. He was already relying on Lan Wangji's patience to let him remain in Cloud Recesses. And so, while the two of them went inside, he sat on the wooden steps to the Hanshi and waited.

His eyes wandered over the peaceful scenery of the Cloud Recesses, but his mind was elsewhere. The charade of the snake monster killing Lan Xichen had a reason behind it. To keep the Lan sect out of it, unable to take revenge for his death? But then they could have simply killed him and left the body. Instead they'd taken Lan Xichen for some purpose. Yet, there was no ransom request, no gloating message of any kind. Why go through so much trouble to make it look like Lan Xichen didn't survive the night-hunt?

Huaisang reflexively opened his fan and hid his face as the realization dawned. This was a delaying tactic. Whoever took Lan Xichen needed him for something, and they wanted unrestricted access.

For a moment, he had to set a hand on the wooden steps where he sat, to keep his balance as the world swam before his eyes. Lan Xichen would have to be alive. Although he had resolutely clung to hope thus far, this was the first time since he'd heard the news that he felt like he was climbing out onto firmer ground from quicksand.

He heard a surprised exclamation behind him and knew the other two must have found something in the Hanshi. Eager for more news, Huaisang scrambled up quickly and hid his folded fan in his belt, dashing towards the commotion inside Lan Xichen's private space. 

Lan Wangji rushed out towards him clutching a piece of paper in his hand, looking as enraged as Huaisang had ever seen him. He seemed like he would go right through Huaisang, without stopping. Huaisang's back hit one of the wooden pillars by the door as he attempted to back away, and then Lan Wangji was in his face.

"The letter!" It was a mark of how distraught Lan Wangji was that his voice had risen with that word. He pushed the piece of paper against Huaisang's chest, so he had no choice but to take it.

Looking down, he started to scan the contents and found he didn't need to, he already recognized the words by heart; he knew the writer. Huaisang lifted horrified eyes up to Wangji, and shook his head.

"I didn't write it," he cried. 

When Wangji's furious eyes only narrowed further, Huaisang glanced at the paper again, his own familiar polished calligraphy, the expensive paper from Cheyun works in Qinghe he used whenever he could for his correspondence because he liked the feel of it under his hands. 

"Well, clearly I did, but I was never going to send it!" He wasn't. He knew how writing to Lan Xichen asking to meet would come across — childish, needy, pretentious, all the things he wanted to leave in the past — and what would he even say when they met? The last time he had laid eyes on this letter, it had been unfinished, folded off to the side in his private study in the Unclean Realm, within reach and yet purposefully ignored.

"Then how did your letter end up in the Hanshi? Why did my brother go to the meeting you proposed?"

"I don't know!" He backed up a step, shifting around the pillar so he would have an escape, and Lan Wangji matched him step for step, advancing forward. Like a boy who'd cried wolf, Huaisang knew they wouldn't believe him. He tried another track. "Do you really think if I had wanted to set up Sect Leader Lan, I would first send him an incriminating letter tying the Nie sect to it?" He looked from one man to the other, imploring them to think it through. "That the letter is mine doesn't mean I sent it, but Lan Xichen would have thought so. Someone had wanted him to go to the meeting, this is indisputable, which means there was no accident!"

Even as he was telling them this, Huaisang began to panic. If Lan Xichen had gone to Lanling thinking he was meeting Huaisang, on neutral territory as the letter proposed, that meant that the reason he had been alone... 

"I did this," he whispered in realization, lips going numb. "Xichen-ge is gone because...because I, I..."

"Nie-xiong," Wei Wuxian intruded, his voice seeming to come from far away. "Let's think logically. If you did send the letter, then did you also release the beast to terrorize that town? And also prove to us that someone had released it? And if you did not send it, then someone had betrayed you and stole the letter. Nie-xiong, where—" He was still talking, Wei Wuxian's lips were still moving, but Huaisang couldn't hear him. Blood pounded in his ears, as the inevitable conclusion formed in his mind. Someone in the Nie clan has set them up, had used the silly, romantic nonsense filling Huaisang's head to set a trap for Lan Xichen, that led him to his doom.

At that moment it became difficult to see or to think. Nie Huaisang felt the warning darkness creeping up on his vision, before his eyes rolled up in his head, and he passed out.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post](https://sheron-c.tumblr.com/post/644234167869112320/between-the-shadow-and-the-soul-16) here. The story is nearly complete and I'm starting to post so that I have the motivation to finish it. 
> 
> Feedback is loved!


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